Noxious Neckware
by Kythe42
Summary: Henry loves his scarves, but they don't always love him back. Five times Henry experiences physical discomfort or illness caused by his scarves.
1. The Vintage Scarf

Henry goes to a yard sale with Jo where he hits the jackpot finding some lovely vintage scarves. He can't resist purchasing them and putting one on right away. Unfortunately the scarf doesn't seem to agree with him.

* * *

Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters. I'm merely borrowing them for my own amusement.

Author's Notes: This is a "five times" fic and the chapters are standalone and mostly unrelated except for the theme. This story was inspired by and written for a friend that wishes to remain anonymous.

* * *

"Remind me again why you dragged me out here?" Henry asked wearily as he surveyed the various displays of what mostly appeared to be junk in the backyard of a home in Queens.

"Because I'm trying to find a birthday gift for a friend who likes vintage and antique stuff and I need you to tell me if something is genuine or not and worth the price," Jo explained with an irritated sigh for what was at least the fifth time.

"You know Abe will be hurt if he finds out about this. You could have just picked something out from the shop and it would have saved us both a lot of time," Henry pointed out shoving his hands into his coat pockets trying to warm them up. Winter was a horrible time of year for a yard sale.

"Yeah I can't exactly afford anything you guys sell in that place even with a friends and family discount," she answered with a bit of an eye roll. "Just help me find something, then we can get out of here." Henry nodded resignedly and followed her around the various displays examining the merchandise. Jo's eye was caught by an old looking wall clock that still seemed to be in great condition. "Hey Henry, what do you think of..." she trailed off as she realized he was no longer next to her and had wandered off again as he had an annoying tendency to do. She looked around and finally spotted him several yards away rummaging through an old box with a delighted expression on his face. She made her way over to him and laughed when she saw the contents of the box. It was full to the brim with a variety of vintage scarves in excellent condition. "Wow, looks like you hit the jackpot here."

"Indeed," Henry replied with a wide grin. "Perhaps yard sales aren't so bad after all."

"Ok come and look at this clock I found and then you can pick out a new scarf." Henry seemed very hesitant to leave the scarves and he had a look of moderate distress on his face as if the scarves were children that might be kidnapped if left unattended. She swore he probably would have made an audible whining sound if it weren't so undignified. "Ok fine, I'll go get the clock and bring it over here," she said shaking her head and smirked slightly when he noticeably sighed with relief. When she returned Henry had gone back to examining the scarves and she had to snap her fingers at him to get his attention.

"Ah yes, while this clock most definitely is Victorian in style, it is no more than a high quality replica," he announced after giving the clock a quick once over.

"Thanks, that will definitely help with trying to haggle the price down."

"You mean you still intend to purchase this piece?" Henry asked taken aback.

"Yep. My friend doesn't care so much about authenticity. She just likes the style," Jo explained.

Henry shrugged wanting too much to turn his attention back to the scarves to go into a lecture at this point. "Very well, call me over if the owner gives you any trouble with claims of authenticity," he said and turned back to the box of scarves.

Jo nodded and went to make her purchase and carried the clock back to her car. When she returned Henry was right where she left him. "I made out good. Thanks to you I managed to haggle the price down by thirty dollars." Henry nodded at her distractedly and then started showing her the various scarves in the box and kept going on describing the fabric and patterns and stitching and when and where each scarf was likely manufactured. He kept sniffling, but she figured it was probably just from the cold weather. After about fifteen minutes of this Jo had had enough. "Henry you're a grown man, you don't need to justify your reasons for wanting a new scarf to me, just pick one. It's perfectly fine to get one just because it looks nice. Hell buy the whole box if you want, I won't judge you for it." Henry looked at Jo thoughtfully as if the idea of simply purchasing the entire box of scarves hadn't even occurred to him and then a grin slowly spread across his face and she'd bet a month's salary that was exactly what he had decided to do.

"Excellent idea Jo. If there are any scarves in the box that I find distasteful I can always sell or donate them at a later time." He picked up the box and walked with Jo to the table where the homeowner had set up shop. After a few moments of haggling they settled on a price and Henry paid the man and they walked back to Jo's car. Jo opened the trunk and Henry put the box inside and then pulled out a warm thick green and gray checked scarf that looked like one he had very much favored back in the 70s and had lost due to an untimely death. He wrapped the scarf around his neck over the light blue one he was already wearing and then shut the trunk door.

"Are you sure you want to wear that without washing it?" Jo asked with a doubtful expression on her face. "That box was a bit dusty and I'm sure the scarves within it aren't the cleanest."

Henry examined the tails of the scarf he had just put on and shrugged his shoulders slightly. "It doesn't look too bad to me, I'm sure it will be fine. Besides it's cold out here and the scarf I had on isn't nearly warm enough." In truth, he just simply didn't want to remove the scarf. It was almost like seeing an old friend again after many years apart even if he knew there was no way it could be the same scarf and it filled him with a small sense of comfort and elation.

"Fine suit yourself," said Jo as they got into her car. "So how many scarves were in that box?" she asked after she pulled out onto the road.

"I'm not sure. At least ten," Henry guessed.

"And how many do you own now in total?" Jo asked teasingly.

"I'd like to plead the fifth on that," Henry answered with a playful grin. He sniffled as he felt the itch in his nose that had been plaguing him on and off for the last half hour flare up again. This time it was making his nose start to run and he pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and discreetly blew his nose.

Jo raised an eyebrow noting that Henry had been sniffling for quite some time now and she hoped that he wasn't coming down with something. Just as she was about to ask him if he was alright he jerked forward suddenly sneezing explosively into his handkerchief. The unexpected outburst made her jump and she just barely managed not to lose control of the car. "Bless you. You ok?"

Henry blew his nose again and nodded. "Thanks. Yes I feel fine. It was just a sudden itch. I'm sorry if I startled you."

"It didn't look so sudden to me," she said and chuckled as Henry gave her a confused look. "Oh come on, you know you're not the only one capable of making observations. You've been sniffling since shortly after we arrived at the yard sale."

"Well it is cold outside," Henry said dismissively.

"Right..." Jo said skeptically knowing she'd never seen him sniffle that much in cold weather before.

Henry sniffled again and rubbed at his nose which was starting to tickle persistently now. He had to admit that he did feel a bit off, but he wasn't going to say so out loud. Why worry Jo for no reason? He inhaled sharply sneezing again into his handkerchief. He paused for a few seconds and then repeated the action once more. He wiped his nose on the soft fabric and when he looked up he saw Jo raising an eyebrow at him. "I'm fine really."

"Uh huh..." Jo knew something was up with him despite his assurances. His voice was starting to sound slightly congested and she could see that his eyes were becoming a bit red and watery. She wasn't going to argue with him though and turned her attention back to the road. "I think you're having an allergy attack," she said after Henry had sneezed for the tenth time in as many minutes.

Henry glared at Jo slightly and rubbed at his nose trying not to sneeze again from the tickle that just would not go away. "Not likely," he said knowing full well she wasn't going to buy his denial.

Jo rolled her eyes. "Well it's either that or you're getting sick. Tell me Dr. Morgan, if someone came to you complaining of the same symptoms that you're experiencing right now, what would you tell them?"

Henry sighed. "I'd tell them that they were probably suffering from an allergic reaction," he conceded.

"That box of scarves was dusty," Jo reminded him. "Are you allergic to dust?"

"I might have a certain sensitivity to it," Henry reluctantly admitted, "but I wouldn't go so far as to call it an allergy." His nose then seeing fit to betray his words was seized with another sharp tickle and he sneezed twice more into his handkerchief and then blew his nose as gently as he could.

"Bless you," said Jo trying not to laugh. "I think you're just splitting hairs at this point."

"It's really nothing to be concerned about," Henry insisted. "I'm not often bothered by this allergy if that's what you want to insist on calling it."

"Well you don't often have a dusty scarf wrapped around your neck," Jo pointed out. "I'm sure you'll feel better if you take it off."

"I'll be fine Jo," Henry said waving her off.

"You have a weird definition of fine," Jo muttered under her breath after Henry sneezed again so forcefully that it seemed to leave him dazed for a few seconds.

"It's really not that bad," he insisted and blew his nose wincing when the sound came out much louder than he'd intended.

"Henry stop acting like a child," she said with an exasperated tone. "You can wear the scarf again after you've washed it."

"I'm cold and I'd rather keep it on," Henry insisted, though at this point he knew he was being irrational. He really wasn't that cold, he just really liked the scarf and didn't want to take it off. Besides he really wasn't that miserable overall. He'd experienced so much pain and trauma and suffering from all of his various deaths that the sneezing seemed like nothing more than a minor nuisance.

Jo rolled her eyes. "You could have just asked me to turn up the heat," she said and cranked up the thermostat. She rolled her eyes again when Henry still didn't take off the scarf, but she held her tongue. He could be even more stubborn than she was, and if he wanted to wear that thing so badly that he was willing to put up with the repetitive sneezing, then there wasn't much she could say that would change his mind.

Henry groaned softly as the persistent tickle in his nose continued to plague him. He sniffled and rubbed at his nose and contorted his face every which way trying not to sneeze again to prove to Jo that he was fine so she'd stop nagging him. He quickly lost the battle though, the need to sneeze greatly amplified by trying to stop it, and he succumbed to a harsh fit sneezing several times in a row into his handkerchief. He winced after blowing his nose at how sodden his handkerchief was becoming. Now he could finally admit to himself that he was really being quite foolish at this point and enough was enough.

"Wow bless you!" Jo exclaimed. Henry really wasn't looking so good after that intense bout of sneezing. His nose had become red and irritated looking and his eyes were so watery that they looked on the verge of overflowing with tears. She was just about to insist that he take the scarf off before he really made himself sick when he removed it of his own accord and placed it in his lap. "I'm glad to see you've finally come to your senses and taken the scarf off."

"Yes well it was starting to get a touch warm in here," he said with a sniffle futilely trying to pretend that it had had nothing to do with the allergic reaction to the dust in the scarf. He caught Jo rolling her eyes at him again, but he ignored it. Unfortunately the damage had already been done and his nose was still tickling despite having removed the scarf from around his neck. He knew it would take awhile for the reaction to work its way out of his system. Several minutes and several sneezes later they finally arrived back at the antiques shop. Henry retrieved the box of scarves from the trunk and Jo walked him to the door.

"Thanks again for coming with me Henry. You were a big help."

"It was my pleasure," he said with a warm smile. "Besides I did end up getting something out of it as well. I'm sure I won't be nearly so reluctant to accompany you the next time you invite me to go to a yard sale."

"Yeah, though I'm not sure me enabling your scarf addiction is the best idea," Jo said laughing. "Well you'd better go wash them and take something before you sneeze to death."

"Detective the likelihood of that happening is..." Henry broke off as his nose was filled with a massive tickle and quickly turned to the side sneezing four times in rapid succession into the crook of his arm.

"You were saying?" Jo said with a playful smirk.

"Ok fair point," he replied with a chuckle. "I'll go run the scarves through the wash right away. Enjoy the rest of your weekend Jo."

"You too Henry. Feel better," Jo said and got back in her car and drove off.

Henry went inside and headed straight for the laundry room. He carefully placed all of the scarves from the box in the washing machine before finally adding the one he had been wearing placing it lovingly on top of the others. He sneezed one last time as he closed the lid to the washing machine and knew that he was going to wear that scarf again as soon as it was clean.


	2. The Nostalgic Scarf

Henry finds an old scarf that Abigail gave him, and can't resist putting it on despite the fact that it's not exactly clean, and knowing that it will bring him misery along with comfort.

* * *

Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters. I'm merely borrowing them for my own amusement.

Author's Notes: This is a "five times" fic and the chapters are standalone and mostly unrelated except for the theme. This story was inspired by and written for a friend that wishes to remain anonymous.

* * *

Henry groaned as he woke up, the sunlight filtering through the curtains making it difficult to go back to sleep. He had specifically requested this day off, so he knew he didn't have to get out of bed if he didn't want to. What he really wanted was to just sleep the entire day, but he knew his body wouldn't let him do that. It was the anniversary of the day that he had proposed to Abigail, and as much as he tried to think of the happy times with her, he found that all he could feel was sorrow that she was no longer in his life. He knew that he couldn't spend the entire day like this, brooding in bed, but he could allow himself to indulge in it for awhile longer.

As it turned out, he only got to indulge in ten more minutes of brooding before the phone rang. He reached out and picked up the phone from his nightstand. "Hello," Henry said sleepily as he put the phone's receiver to his ear.

"Hey Henry," said Jo. "I didn't wake you did I?"

"No, I was already awake, but still in bed, and perhaps not fully alert."

"Oh sorry. Anyway, I know you're supposed to have the day off today, but we've got a really strange case that seems to be a bit over Lucas's head," said Jo apologetically. "Would you mind coming down to the morgue to take a look?"

Henry sighed. So much for his day off. "What exactly is so strange about your current case?"

"Well um, it looks like the victim had her head and limbs removed and then sewn back on backwards," Jo explained.

Henry's eyes widened in surprise. "Now that is rather unusual. I'll be there as soon as I can." He certainly hadn't planned on working today, but perhaps it would be good for him to get his mind off of things instead of wallowing in old memories for the entire day. He could always do that after he got home.

"Great, I'm parked outside the shop."

"You are? How did you know I'd say yes?"

"Because I know you Henry," Jo said with a laugh. "You can't resist the weird cases."

Henry chuckled. "This is true. I will need some time to shower and dress. You should come inside and wait with Abe. Perhaps we can have a quick bite before heading off to the morgue. If I know you, you haven't had any breakfast yet."

Jo laughed again. "Nope I haven't. I'll meet you in the kitchen then."

* * *

Henry did his work efficiently, but without his usual enthusiasm. It turned out that having a body to autopsy only partially distracted him from his thoughts. This did not go unnoticed by his colleagues, and Jo and Lucas repeatedly asked him if he was alright. Even Hanson expressed concern at one point. He had waved off all of their concerns, not wishing to discuss his mood with any of them, and assured them he was fine, but a bit tired perhaps.

Once he had finished with the autopsy and submitted his report, he left work and caught a cab. Instead of directing the driver to take him home, he gave the address of a storage facility that he owned a unit in. During the ride, he wondered why he was even doing this. It was bad enough that he was torturing himself with old memories in his head, and he wasn't sure why he felt the need to surround himself with objects that would reinforce those memories. And yet, understandably, this was a day that he found himself missing Abigail more than usual, and he wanted to surround himself with things that reminded him of her, even if it was painful.

Lost in his thoughts, the ride was over much more quickly than Henry had anticipated. He thanked the driver, paid him, and then exited the vehicle. He entered the storage facility dragging his feet as he made his way toward his unit. After arriving at his destination, Henry stood still in front of the door feeling his heart start to race slightly with an anxiety that he couldn't quite place. He had no idea why he felt so nervous. He was familiar with all of the items contained within the unit, so there would be no surprises. Yet with the way his heart was pounding, it was as if he half expected Abigail to be waiting for him on the other side of that door. In a way, he supposed she was, considering that many of the items that were stored here brought back memories of her, which was really his whole purpose for coming here today. Henry took a deep breath as he retrieved his keys from his pocket and unlocked the door. He took another deep breath as he slowly opened the door, closing it behind him after entering the storage unit.

Henry stood still for a few moments just scanning the various items around the room. He could see familiar pieces of antique furniture scattered throughout the room that he had no room for at his home or office, but that he couldn't bear to part with. Much of the space between the furniture was filled with timeworn boxes that contained old clothing, photographs, and various sentimental knickknacks. Everything was covered in a quarter inch thick layer of dust. It had been so many years since he had last been here, and he should have realized that this would be the case, but he'd had other things on his mind. He could feel a faint itch beginning to form high up in his nasal passages, and wished that he'd had the foresight to take an antihistamine before coming here, knowing that he'd be likely to have a full on allergy attack once he started opening up boxes and stirring up the dust. There was nothing for it though. He wasn't about to go all the way home to take some medicine and then come back, so he'd just have to deal with it the best he could.

He slowly made his way further into the room, stopping every so often to admire the old furniture, which was still beautiful despite the dust. He'd have to come back here another time, once he was properly medicated, to clean everything up, or better yet hire someone else to do it. He started to open the various boxes, lifting the lids from them ever so carefully trying not to disturb the dust too much, but he couldn't completely stop it from getting up in the air. Before long, Henry's nose was running badly enough that sniffling wasn't helping much. He kept alternating between using his handkerchief to wipe his nose or blow it. He kept smiling sadly as one item or another would stir up memories. Henry finally found an old photo album that contained many pictures of him and Abigail, and of Abe as a youngster, and felt his breath catch as a surge of emotion filled him. He quickly put the album aside, deciding that he would take it home with him, where he could take the time to properly look through it.

As he made his way to the back of the room, he noticed a box whose lid was askew and only half covering the box. He carefully removed the lid, noting that the misalignment had caused the items inside the box to become rather dusty as well. The box was full of old clothing of his. They were mostly pieces that were too out of date for him get away with wearing in this day and age, but on the top of the pile was an old scarf. Henry gently lifted the scarf from the box and shook it out so he could get a better look at it. This turned out to be a big mistake as the action caused a rather large cloud of dust to rise into the air.

Henry coughed several times, and then rubbed his nose vigorously, trying in vain to alleviate the intense tickling that had started up in his nasal passages. His breath started to hitch, and then with a final sharp inhale, he sneezed explosively into his handkerchief. He blinked a few times, dazed from the force of it, but he barely had time to recover before he was forced to bury his nose in his handkerchief again, sneezing several times in rapid succession. He blew his nose and wiped his watery eyes. The tickle in his nose had lessened, but it hadn't fully abated, and he knew that this was just a hiatus before he started sneezing again.

He examined the scarf, noting the dark blue and maroon paisley pattern, and recognized it as the one Abigail had given him for their fifteenth wedding anniversary. He swallowed hard as tears filled his eyes that were no longer just allergy induced. He let out deep shuddering breaths as he clutched the scarf to his chest and let the tears fall from his eyes. After a few moments, he wrapped the dusty scarf around his neck despite knowing that it was a foolish thing to do, and would only further aggravate his allergies. He just missed Abigail so much today and felt the need to have something that reminded him of her close to him.

As Henry caught another sudden fit of sneezes in his handkerchief, he decided that it would probably be best for him to leave this place now. He really needed to go home and take some antihistamines. He knew from past experience that he would be unlikely to stop sneezing until he did, and probably not for awhile afterward, especially if he couldn't bring himself to take off the scarf. He picked up the photo album that he had set aside earlier, and then locked up the storage unit as he left. Thankfully it didn't take him long to hail a cab after he exited the building.

He kept sneezing in fits of three or four sneezes every few minutes for the entire ride home. His handkerchief soon became too soaked to be of any further use, and he had to resort to constant sniffling to prevent his nose from running all down his face. The cab driver kept shooting him dirty looks, but Henry wasn't much in the mood to care. Both he and the driver were immensely relieved when they finally arrived at the antiques shop. Henry paid the driver, and gave him a fairly large tip, before exiting the vehicle and quickly making his way into the shop.

Abe wasn't home. He had gone to get some groceries for dinner, as Henry could see from the note left by the phone. It was just as well. He wanted some time to get himself cleaned up a bit before Abe got back. He went upstairs and left the photo album on the coffee table in the living room, and then ascended another flight of stairs to his bedroom. The first thing he did was locate a box of tissues. He grabbed a handful from the box just in time to catch a small series of rapid-fire sneezes. He then blew his nose repeatedly until his head was as clear as it was going to get for the time being.

Next Henry made his way to the bathroom. He cringed when he saw how awful he looked in the bathroom mirror. Splashing water on his face did little to reduce the appearance of his red rimmed watery eyes and even redder looking nose. He sighed knowing that chances were that Abe would definitely notice and comment once he got home. Henry sneezed twice into the crook of his arm, sniffled, and then raised his hand to his neck letting it rest on the scarf. He knew he should really take it off and wash it, but the thought of removing it brought fresh tears to his eyes. He retrieved some antihistamines from the medicine cabinet, and swallowed them with a glass of water, hoping that they would take care of the worst of his symptoms.

After returning to his bedroom, Henry retrieved a couple of clean handkerchiefs and put them in his pocket, and grabbed the tissue box as well, before heading back down to the living room. He made himself comfortable in one of the armchairs, picked up the photo album from the coffee table, and set the box of tissues down in its place. He started browsing through the photo album letting each picture transport him into the past. Some pictures made him smile and laugh, and others brought up such strong emotions that he couldn't help but give in and let himself cry. He was so engrossed in the photographs that he barely even noticed the still persistent tickling in his nose, and half the time he was blowing his nose from crying rather than sneezing.

Half an hour later, when Abe finally returned home, Henry was still immersed in the photo album. The medication he had taken had greatly reduced his sneezing by this time, but not eliminated it altogether, and he still felt rather congested. He waved a greeting to Abe as he entered the apartment.

Abe raised an eyebrow when he saw his father. He didn't look well at all. He returned his father's greeting with a nod, then went into the kitchen to put away the groceries, before joining his father in the living room to find out what was going on. He took a seat on the couch and was able to see more clearly how awful his father looked. He took in his father's bright red swollen nose and bloodshot watery eyes. He also looked generally worn out and miserable. "You really don't look so good. Are you coming down with something?"

Henry shook his head. "I'm alright Abraham," Henry paused to sneeze rather forcefully into his handkerchief, and cringed at how congested his voice sounded before continuing. "I was just tidying up the house a bit, and I'm afraid the dust got to me rather more than I had anticipated," Henry lied knowing that his son probably wasn't going to buy it.

Abe frowned. He knew his father had always been a bit sensitive to dust, which was why they both endeavored to keep the house as clean as possible. As such, Henry never seemed to have any more issues with dusting than a bit of a runny nose afterward, and that was only if they had let the cleaning go for longer than usual. No, there had to be something else going on. He also noticed that his father was wearing a scarf. He didn't usually wear scarves inside the house unless it was really cold or he was coming down with something. He stood up and felt Henry's forehead and neck checking him for a fever. "Well you don't feel feverish to me," said Abe perplexed.

"I told you I'm fine. It was just the dust," said Henry with a sniffle. "I took some antihistamines and I should be good as new by tomorrow at the latest."

Abe narrowed his eyes at his father and sat back down on the couch. He glanced at the scarf Henry was wearing again and something seemed rather familiar about it. Then suddenly realization dawned on him. "Wait, that scarf... Isn't that one that..." Abe trailed off almost afraid to finish the sentence.

Henry sighed. "Yes, it's one that your mother gave me."

Abe glanced at the coffee table and saw the open photo album resting there. That was the last piece of the puzzle he needed, and he suddenly understood what had happened. "You went down to the storage unit didn't you?" Henry only nodded in response with a pained look on his face. "No wonder you're such a mess. Neither of us have been down there in ages and the whole place must be dusty as hell."

"Yes it was," Henry answered simply and caught two harsh sneezes in his handkerchief, blowing his nose gently afterward.

"Bless you. What made you feel the need to go down there all of a sudden?"

Henry sighed and rubbed at his eyes, which were threatening to overflow with tears again. "It's the anniversary of the day that I proposed to your mother."

"Oh." Abe wasn't sure what else to say. That certainly explained the pained look on his Henry's face, and he realized that part of his father's haggard appearance was from crying on top of the allergy attack. "You know she wouldn't want you to mope around like this."

"Yes Abe, I know, and tomorrow I won't be, but I think I can afford to indulge in a day of melancholy wallowing every now and then."

Abe nodded. He really couldn't argue with that. He certainly had his own days where he let grief overtake him thinking about his mother. Then something else occurred to him. "Wait, you didn't wash that scarf before putting it on did you?"

"No I did not," Henry admitted. Under other circumstances he might have felt embarrassed by his foolishness in this matter, but he was feeling too wretched right now to care.

Abe shook his head in exasperation. "You do realize that even with the pills your allergies are unlikely to clear up completely until you take that thing off?"

"Yes Abraham, I'm well aware of this. It's really not that bad..." he trailed off as a tickle ironically flared up in his nose right when he was trying to assure his son of his wellbeing. He inhaled sharply and caught a harsh fit of sneezes in his handkerchief. He sniffled and ignored the incredulous look his son was giving him. "I promise you I'm doing much better than I was earlier."

Abe sighed. "Look, I understand why you want to wear that scarf, but surely you can part with it for a couple of hours to run it through the wash." He stood up again and grabbed one end of the scarf to remove it from around his father's neck. Henry quickly grabbed his arm tightly to stop him and looked up at him with a desperate pleading expression on his face.

"Please don't," Henry whispered feeling tears fill his eyes. He knew it was foolish, and maybe even childish, but the thought of being parted from the scarf right now filled him with such anguish.

Abe shook his head and sighed resignedly as he let go of the scarf. "Fine, have it your way. If you want to make yourself miserable in more ways than one, who am I to stop you?"

"Thank you," Henry answered trying to blink back the tears and regain his composure. "The medicine has made me a bit groggy, so I think I'm going to go upstairs and lie down for a bit." This was only half true. Yes he was tired, but he mostly wanted privacy while he continued looking at the old pictures in case he broke down in tears again.

Abe nodded. "Yeah a nap would probably do you good. I'm going to go get started on dinner." Henry gave him a weak smile, then picked up the photo album and tissue box, and headed upstairs. Every so often Abe would pause his cooking to go check on Henry, but he would always stop halfway up the stairs hearing alternating sneezing or sobbing, and think the better of it. He was worried about his father. It wasn't like him to get this emotional, even on those days that he chose to indulge in the grief of old memories. He supposed it was something that had probably been building for awhile though, and it was probably best to just let his father get it out of his system.

About halfway through cooking dinner, Abe went to check on Henry again. This time, halfway up the stairs, all he heard was the sound of soft congested snoring. He climbed the rest of the stairs and gently opened the door to Henry's bedroom. His father was asleep in bed curled up on his side. His nose looked even more raw and irritated than it had earlier, and even though his eyes were closed, he could see that they were quite puffy and swollen. Henry was no longer wearing the scarf, but he had it clutched to his chest as if it were a security blanket. Abe tiptoed to the bed and managed to carefully pry the scarf from his father's grasp without waking him. He then left the room and quietly shut the door behind him.

Abe knew his father might be upset with him if he woke up to find the scarf gone, but it was filthy and needed a good wash. He was sure that after the initial anger, Henry would thank him for being able to wear the scarf for as long as he wanted without sneezing his head off. After throwing the scarf and a few other things in the wash, Abe returned to the kitchen to finish cooking dinner. He hadn't originally planned to do this, but he decided to whip up a batch of blueberry scones, knowing that Henry's favorite dessert would be sure to cheer him up, at least a little.

* * *

Sorry that this chapter is so similar in theme to the first one. My friend and I both had different ideas for how we saw the dusty scarf prompt going, and I really wanted to write both of them. I promise the rest of the chapters will be a bit more varied.


End file.
